


Ghost in the Goblet

by wynnebat



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Book 4: Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:54:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21797941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wynnebat/pseuds/wynnebat
Summary: In which the goblet chooses a Slytherin champion.
Comments: 10
Kudos: 239





	Ghost in the Goblet

The Great Hall erupts into excited whispers as Dumbledore approaches the Goblet of Fire. Casper Nott, sixth year Slytherin, is more concerned about the transfiguration homework due tomorrow, but he makes an effort to pay attention to the mood of the room.

The consensus around Hogwarts was that Cedric Diggory would become their champion. Maybe, just maybe, a dark horse would finangle their way into the tournament—Alicia Spinnet is considered the second most likely candidate, but she just doesn’t have the same charisma that Cedric embodies and that the Goblet will no doubt swoon over like the rest of the student body—but on Halloween night, there is little doubt in anyone’s minds. So little doubt that Casper’s best mate Cassius Warrington is already flipping through his betting journal and counting up how the pool of money would be distributed. The problem with the most popular choice winning is that no one would really be getting much more than they put it. It’s a boring kind of outcome.

Cassius turns to his friend. “Casper, you didn’t bet on anyone?”

Casper huffs. “No thanks. You’re lucky that I even put my name in.”

“I was so sure you’d chicken out,” Cassius replies with a shake of his head, just as up at the head table, Dumbledore announces Krum as Durmstrang’s champion. “Called that one, though.”

Casper claps along with the rest of the students as Krum rises. Somehow, the poor bastard had found himself sitting next to Malfoy, who looks so smug that you’d think he’s the one whose name shot out of the Goblet. Someone named Fleur Delacour is next, and then, Dumbledore’s voice booms through the hall as he says, “And Casper Nott, our Hogwarts champion!”

All Slytherin eyes turn instantly toward Casper, while the rest of the tables look around in confusion, unsure of who exactly the champion is and which house he’s in. Everyone starts clapping anyway. Cassius even whoops loudly. The sounds ring through Casper’s ears but don’t quite reach him.

“I’ve won the betting pool,” Cassius whispers, unholy glee lighting his eyes. “I know I was the only one to bet on you.”

Casper doesn’t try to sink into the floor. He hasn’t done something so undignified since he was a first year. But if one really looked, they might find something in the line of his shoulders that suggests he’d really like to. He stands on perfectly even legs and heads toward the direction Dumbledore gestured toward. He is still deep in shock when the Goblet lights up in a shower of sparks and shoots out Harry Potter’s name.

With a sinking sensation, Casper realizes he’s been accidentally caught up in the chaos that dogs Potter’s existence.

Dear fucking Merlin.

A little while later finds Casper leaning against one of the walls of the room all the participants of the tournament have gathered in. It’s the waiting room between the Great Hall and the first floor south corridor, and it had felt bigger when there had been twenty or so firsties crammed into it, Casper thinks as he remembers the last time he’d stepped foot here. He’d been a good deal shorter and weedier, but the levels of apprehension about an uncertain future are about the same. The room feels hardly bigger than a shoebox with everyone who’s crammed inside—four champions, three headmasters, three Hogwarts professors, and Ludo Bagman—plus the egos of everyone there. Also intangible yet nearly visible is the aura of anger and confusion. The adults stand to the side and argue loudly about how and why the Goblet spat out four names instead of three. The technically-adults-but-really-not-especially-qualified-adults, plus Potter, who’s a fourth year or something, have mostly been left out of their conversation.

Delacour is on her third round of complaints about the situation. Her accent is lovely, but it’s grating to hear her go on and on. At each of her short pauses, Krum has agreed with a grunt, but this time he says in a gruff voice, “We will have to deal. We will prove our worth despite the British cheating.”

“I wasn’t the one who cheated,” Casper replies on principle. Not that he is averse to cheating, but now that the shock of actually being chosen is slipping away from him, he wouldn’t mind cheating just to get out of this. This is insane. Casper Nott, Triwizard Tournament champion.

Potter scowls at all three of them. “I didn’t cheat! I didn’t even put my name in the Goblet.”

He sounds truthful, but Casper has heard enough underclassmen attempt to lie their way out of whatever shit they’ve gotten into to know that he can’t always tell when someone’s lying. But whether Potter had done it himself or some asshole had slipped the boy’s name in the Goblet as a joke, “It doesn’t matter whether or not he cheated. You heard the judges. He’s a part of the tournament now. No use wasting our time arguing about it.”

“I— that’s true,” Potter says, looking conflicted. Probably about agreeing with a Slytherin for once in his life. “But for the record, I didn’t, okay?”

It doesn’t matter anyway. Casper shrugs. “Okay.”

Krum makes a noise of disbelief. “You vished to see if you could beat the enchantment. It is a worthy goal. Me, I joined to test my strength against the best of the best.”

“I wanted to prove myself,” Delacour explains. There’s nothing soft in her smile as she says, “There are some people who think I can’t do this.”

They turn to him, but Casper isn’t as deep of a person. “My best friend bet me ten galleons that I wouldn’t.” For Cassius, ten galleons is pocket change, but Casper will stretch it for supplies he hadn’t been able to buy over the summer and some proper winter boots for Theo. The Goblet was never supposed to choose him.

Potter stares at him wide-eyed behind his glasses while the foreign champions seem to have decided that while the tall seventh year is more of a challenge than the scrawny fourth year, the real competition is between Delacour and Krum. Casper’s not much of a betting man—in fact, he’s never gambling again—but he thinks they’re probably right.

He looks toward Potter, who’d never given his reasons. “If you had placed your name in the Goblet, would would’ve been your goal?”

Potter gives him a careful look. “If I did,” Potter says, not admitting to anything, smart kid, “I would’ve wanted to have something that doesn’t lead back to Voldemort. Something I did, on my own, that’s not about him.”

Casper nods. It’s a nice dream, though as long as the Dark Lord still lingers on this earth, everything leads back to him. Casper isn’t so hopeful as to disregard his father’s news of the darkening mark on his arm and the attacks at the Quidditch World Cup. The Dark Lord is once again more than just a whisper from one student to another, a way to regretfully boast that they would’ve joined him if they hadn’t been too young during the war.

At this point, the headmasters and other assorted adults decide to save their arguments for another day. They explain the rules of the tournament and their expectations for the champions’ conduct. There’s not a chance in hell that this tournament is going to be played fairly, but Casper agrees to Dumbledore’s directives anyway. Moody delivers the uncomfortable reminder that someone may have placed Potter’s name in the Goblet to have him killed. Sucks to be Potter, Casper thinks, and resolves to quickly get out of the line of fire if Moody’s theory becomes true. There are enough rumors about Potter’s adventures for Casper to know he doesn’t want to be caught up in them. He’d like to live through his sixth year, not die from a basilisk bite or a rogue dementor.

They’re released back into the castle afterward. The foreign students leave with their respective headmaster and headmistress, Potter heads toward the Gryffindor tower, and Cassius makes his way to the dungeons. The students he passes turn to stare and whisper.

There’s a hush in the Slytherin common room when Casper returns. Casper lingers in the doorway for a moment, long enough for his house to find their voices again and begin to clap. The younger ones even cheer. Casper isn’t a quidditch player nor the highest points winner, and as a prefect, he’s treated with a bit of wariness and irritation when he breaks up people’s fun. He’s never gotten this kind of response before. It’s a hell of a rush, the knowledge that out of everyone who’d placed their name inside the Goblet, it picked him. Him, Casper Nott, thought more skilled than Cedric Diggory or Ana Marshbank. More competent than every single one of his yearmates, because Casper doesn’t know anyone over 17 who resisted the allure of fame and fortune and danger.

That doesn’t mean that Casper’s main emotion isn’t pure, unadulterated panic.

What the fuck did he get himself into?

Snape is suspiciously absent as the upperclassmen bust out the alcohol, their head of house’s students getting in trouble senses probably tapered by whatever passes for anticipation in the man. Casper’s younger brothers are overjoyed. They’ve probably never been prouder of him in their lives. Casper stays long enough to politely accept everyone’s congratulations, then secludes himself in the sixth year boys dormitory.

Cassius is the first to follow him up. He takes out a bottle of firewhiskey from one of his robe pockets, which Casper accepts. As a prefect, he can’t indulge himself in front of the underclassmen, but underage drinking in the privacy of his room is another thing.

“I’m still angry with you,” Casper says, flopping down onto his bed. He’d risen from it a perfectly normal student and lay down as one of the Hogwarts champions.

Cassius takes Casper’s chair. “I’m not taking any blame for this. It was your own choice to relieve me of ten galleons and put your name in the Goblet. How were we supposed to know you’re secretly a badass?”

Casper groans and considers smothering himself with a pillow. He never would’ve put his name in if it wasn’t for the stupid bet. But Cassius had put his name in at the same time, and Casper can’t quite believe he lives in a universe where he’s chosen over Cassius for something. Although really, Casper’s an idiot. People have died in this tournament. He’d never forgive himself if he went and died on his younger brothers. “I hate this.”

“Sorry,” Cassius says, the word sounding like he’d had to pull it out from a very little-used place in his heart.

“You’re forgiven,” Casper replies. It’s not Cassius’ fault, not really. “But I still want half your profits from the betting pool.” Casper hadn’t contributed anything to the pool—he has better things to do with his money—but if he’s going to put his neck on the line, he’d better get paid for it.

“How about a quarter?”

“I’m in a competition that might well kill me before the end of the year.”

“Fine. I can’t believe it though; nearly 250 galleons and I was the only one who bet on you. Although I did put more money on Diggory, I admit.”

“I would’ve bet on Diggory, too.” They’ve been prefects together for two years now, so he’s familiar with both Diggory’s strength and his strength of character. Diggory would’ve been a great champion. Casper has no idea why the Goblet chose him instead.

“But now that we have you, you’ve got to win. Do it for Slytherin.” And since they’re not in mixed company, he adds, “You’ve heard rumors of his reemergence, right? Do it for the Dark Lord.”

“Right,” Casper says. “For the Dark Lord.”

He yells into his pillow.

When their other dormmates return, it’s Augustus who asks, “What’s happening?”

“Casper’s dying or something,” Cassius, best friend of the year, replies. He pokes Casper in the thigh. “Mate, you can’t die at least until the third task. Show some Slytherin pride.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I'm also on [tumblr](https://wynnefic.tumblr.com/).


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